


Further Than Spaceships Fly

by madetobeworthy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aliens, Aliens fusion, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Android!Stiles, Androids, F/M, M/M, Science Fiction, Werewolves in Space, as in the ridley scott aliens universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madetobeworthy/pseuds/madetobeworthy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2045 interplanetary travel is the latest in finding and mining natural resources. In 2085 the existence of werewolves is unveiled. In 2122 a deadly species, to later be known as Xenomorphs, are discovered. </p><p>In 2182 renowned geneticist and bio-engineer Stiles Stilinski, along with coworker Lydia Martin and Wolf Security team designation Hale pack, is asked to aid in Weyland-Yutani Corporation's understanding and weaponizing the aliens. However history has a way of repeating itself, and The Company never learns from it's past mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Major Character Death Spoilers at the bottom of the work so you guys can decide if it's your cup of tea or not before diving straight in.
> 
> I have no plan for this. I literally have no idea where this is headed, but it will be headed somewhere. I just opened up this file and started typing it because all I've wanted is Android AUs for like 3 days. If you want to contribute ideas to this, feel free to do so either in the comments or via [my askbox on tumblr](http://awolfmoon.tumblr.com/ask). 
> 
> Let me know if I need to tag anything else, I think I covered all the bases. 
> 
> This is obviously not beta read as I just typed and posted. If you notice any mistakes that have escaped me, lemme know. If you want to beta anything for me, also let me know. And that's for serious beta inquiries only please and thanks.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> [Work Title is from [Appeal by Hurricane Dean](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n8LbGcaNB68)]

_Explosions in the heart of the labs rocked the whole building. Stiles' first instinct was to reach out and grab the specially reinforced vials filled with a slick, viscous, green liquid. If those things fell, if they shattered, whoever was on the next few floors down underneath the spray wasn't going to have many features left. He figured it was better to prevent that from happening on top of the explosions._

_Another one went off, sending Stiles flying to the floor on his way to the emergency exit. Somehow he managed to curl himself around the vials and land on his back to keep them from shattering beneath him. Not the sort of death he was looking to die today. Not that he was looking for one today, or any day for that matter._

_God damn it why was it the one day he decided to continue his work on Xenomorph blood that everything went to hell. Oh, who he was kidding. This was Weyland-Yutani Corp (or_ The Company _as most referred to the mass conglomerate as), everything was always going to hell and no one learned a damn thing from their mistakes. Which was why he was still holding acidic blood and running through the halls as the power flickered the lights overhead and another rumble of a small explosion made him misstep, wobble, and right himself in a rather stunning show of grace that he'd grown into as an adult._

 __"Warning. Warning. Alien contamination on sub-levels one, two, three, five. Ground levels one, three, four. Evacuation in effect." __

 _As Stiles ran for the nearest dock he could hear gunfire, screaming, and a few soul-shaking roars from the floor above him. He could hear the metal creaking and trying to give way. Shit._ Shit, shit, shit. _Not today. He found a burst of speed in the rush of adrenaline that just barely saved him as a body came crashing through the ceiling._

_He skidded to a halt to turn and see who - or what - had nearly come down on his head. He balked at the sight._

_Jackson's maw was still twisted into a vicious snarl, eyes holding rage and fear even without the backlight of life in them. There was a gaping hole in his chest slowly expanding as it was eaten away by acid. Stiles stood rooted to the spot until above him he could hear someone screaming._

_"Lydia!"_

✕ ✕ ✕

 

Stiles gasped and nearly flung himself from his bed, tangled up in the sheets of it and still managing to knock himself to the floor. It took him a moment to collect himself and get free of his bedding. It wasn't a necessity for him, a commodity that played to his sense of nostalgia, to his need for normality. An illusion shattered when he pulled out the wire connector from the joint in his elbow. His recharge cycles only happened once every four days and he kept himself away from the rest of the crew in his own quarters while he powered down. 

They found him hard to deal with most days, though a genuine effort was made by some. He was not _their_ Stiles; he was just a machine made up of bits and pieces of his memories, made to look, sound and move like the real thing.

When they'd brought him online his first words had been scared and desperate. _Where's Erica?_

No one had answered his questions, not the first one, not the hundredth one. They sent him for testing, for exams. They tested his memory to see what he could and couldn't recall, to see if he passed. They didn't care if he couldn't remember what his father's name was, or the smell of his mother's fresh baked cookies. They didn't need him to recall his first meeting with Scott in third grade, or the taste of Derek's Chicken Penne even though it was his favourite dish and somehow Derek made it better than anyone else ever even if he'd never admit to thinking it. All they needed to know was if he remembered his work in the bio-weapons division, if he could pick up where he left off on his experiments with Xenomorph blood and it's properties, if he'd be able to continue assisting Lydia in the dissection of the genetic makeup and biology.

They tested his strength, his agility, his speed. They signed him off as fully functional, informed him he could finally run with the wolves and keep up.

He didn't blame the pack for hating him, he hated himself. His whole existence was a slap in the face. They could never fully grieve and accept and move on without a constant reminder of the person they loved and lost when he stood there and had his face, his voice. Dared to keep his name, though he didn't think they'd be any happier calling him by his manufactured designation. Who would want to go around calling someone S1-24 anyway?

He sighed, an action he was told was too human for him, unnecessary. He could never get himself to stop though, finding the action more of a triggered response by the parts of his programming designed to emulate his past self.

Each time he plugged in and powered down, new memories pulled themselves to the surface, some kicking and screaming. He still couldn't remember his father's name (and no one planned on telling him any time soon) but he could remember why he loved Lydia and why Scott was his best friend. Now he could remember how Jackson died, and why Lydia seemed to break a little when he was brought up.

Sometimes Stiles found himself going through the motions of dry heaving and bringing up nothing but milky white liquid when the memories got to be too much. He was trying to push away his last look at Jackson before that happened again.

Running his fingers through his hair so it stuck up all ways, Stiles pushed himself to his feet and shuffled over to his closet to change. His sensors gave him an exact pinpoint on everyone on the ship. After a nightmare like this, he habitually sought out Scott who was the only one who treated him like he was a real person instead of an Android.

✕ ✕ ✕

The existence of werewolves had surfaced in 2085. It had long been theorized that creatures of the supernatural variety existed since, well pretty much since the beginning of written history. The revelation had been slow at first, isolated incidents of werewolves purposefully outing themselves to humans. And then it had happened on a grander scale, worldwide. The world was evolving and the shadows of folklore were vanishing. They had no where to hide and so they adapted.

They had been met with fear and misunderstanding in the beginning, something not unexpected given the history of humans reacting poorly to things they did not understand. Yet the wolves prevailed, easily showing their worth, proving that they had lived in harmony for centuries before and why should the future differ? For all that they were considered wild, they were human in almost all ways.

Stiles could close his eyes and pull up memories of being a child and being fascinated by werewolves. He could recall image after image of research done by his seven year old self when his curiosity could never be sated. He knew his mother had been friends with a beautiful woman with a large family, almost all of them werewolves by birth.

Werewolves were what had prompted his growth into a geneticist and bio-engineer. The Bite, the transference of the genetic makeup to literally transform a human being into a completely new species was beyond fascinating.

Derek was the only born werewolf he knew. Stiles remembered a long history of mutual trust and respect between himself and Derek, before his death. Long nights in the labs with only the Alpha as company while he ran test after test on his blood samples, trying to decipher the genetics. He knew, he had a deep rooted feeling in his mind, that he had known Derek maybe all of his life. He couldn't remember how, it was one of those 'not important' parts of his past according to his engineers. He had been born a Beta and in 2173 he'd become the Alpha, and the last of the Hale line.

Stiles couldn't remember how he became the last either. He never dared asked; not Derek, not one of his Betas. Whatever closeness they'd had, whatever mutual trust was there, it was long gone. It had died and been buried with his human body and proper memories. Sometimes he caught Derek staring at him with a sadness in his eyes that pained Stiles to see. So he pretended not to.

As far as the pack was concerned, or so Stiles felt, he was an abomination. He had no heartbeat, he had no scent. He always had the low thrum of _machine_ that seemed to annoy them for the most part. One bad days they bared their teeth and snapped, threatened to tear his arms off. Isaac had once, when Stiles' questions became too probing, too insensitive because sometimes he forgot. Stiles could remember staring dejectedly down at his limb as the white 'blood' of his circuits seeped onto the floor, and down his side from the wound. It was not hard to repair the damage, though the lesson had been burned into his programming.

Werewolves, it turned out, were a lot less dangerous in space than they were on Earth. It took a lot more to get them into a cryosleep for long distance travelling, but once they were away from the Earth's moon, the likelihood of them losing control to their instincts lessened. They could control their shift easier without the sway of it. Stiles was pained to not understand how it worked, to figure out the scientific reasoning behind it. Scott always told him science would never explain magic. Werewolves, as far as Stiles was concerned, were not magic. They were genetics and evolution and adaptation. Those were things he understood. 

Scott would always shake his head and Stiles knew that he missed the real him, the him that had believed the magic was real.

The Company had started to recruit full packs of wolves to act as security on their interplanetary missions. Stiles and Lydia had always been a part of Derek's pack, long before they entered their scientific fields, longer still before they worked for The Company. Where the scientists went, the wolves went. There were no other family groups like them in the whole business and it had always made them a more effective team.

It was the sole reason Derek could always find Stiles - would always find Stiles - before any of the others. Stiles may have been an Android now, but Derek was still the Alpha; he always knew where everyone was the same way Stiles would always know where everyone was.

He was hiding away in one of the back labs, a cramped little space with hardly any room to do his work. But Isaac had been getting snippy and Stiles knew most Androids didn't actually _feel_ and yet he felt nervous and had retreated to a hiding space that most didn't venture back to. Derek hovered for a bit and Stiles was acutely aware of him. His heart rate was slightly accelerated and his adrenaline levels were spiked. Not peaked though, which Stiles was inwardly grateful for. He had made it a habit to monitor the vitals of those around him, but made no mention of it for fear of sparking a fight.

"Can I help you?" He asked after a long moment, finally being able to turn away from the compound he'd been working on. Derek's eyes bore into him and he shifted uncomfortably. It garnered an unfavourable reaction, Derek snorting and looking away.

Too human.

Derek had often been the one to remind him that's how he acted, like it was somehow inappropriate despite it being the only way he knew how to be.

"We've reached the E-N settlement, ten minutes until landing."

Stiles nodded and Derek took it as his queue to leave. Stiles closed his eyes and monitored his movements. Derek had retreated to the third deck, living quarters. His room. There had been no reason for him to inform Stiles of their destination, the lab he was in hadn't even been on his original path to his quarters. Except Derek knew that Stiles, human and Android alike, loved to watch the descent. Had always made a point to inform him of it, even now when he could just as easily tap into the system and find out for himself. No matter where he was, no matter how off track from Derek's destination he was, he always found him.

Stiles had never allowed himself to think of what it might possibly mean.

He still didn't. Instead he tided up his work space and made a beeline for the bridge. EN-178 was just coming into sight when he got there.

"Gentlemen," Danny said from his seat in the Captain's chair, "Welcome to our new home for the next six months. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Major Character Death Spoilers:** Jackson and Erica are dead, which is why they are not mentioned in the tags as they are only used as passing plot points. Stiles dies but is reanimated as an Android, which is basically the drive behind this whole story.
> 
> As mentioned before, any and all ideas are welcome, not all will be used. Also you should come party with me on [tumblr](http://awolfmoon.tumblr.com).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can embrace the past as a guideline, and you can grow into your own being. A different Stiles Stilinski. You can, in your own way, evolve. It might make things easier for you and for the pack instead of trying to shove yourself into a space you don’t fit into.”
> 
> “Be my own person, not the person I’m modeled to be.”
> 
> “You are the first of your kind with memories independent of a joint network. There are no other S1 models. You’ve always been your own person.”
> 
> Stiles sat quietly, running the words Deaton said to him over and over as though it would clear the meaning to him any further. It didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually really proud of myself for getting this typed up and posted within a week. Generally it's difficult for me to do that, but this fic man. I don't know what it is but we are all in for a bumpy ride.
> 
> I only did a quick read-through and I don't have a beta so any and all mistakes are mine. Feel free to point out any errors I've made.

The end of the first month found Stiles in Deaton’s office holding his arm looking utterly miserable and pathetic about it. It hadn’t even been torn off at the shoulder this time, but rather completely severed at the elbow joint. The technician stared at him for a long moment before sighing and beckoning him in.

“What happened this time?” He asked just short of empathetically. Deaton had been one of the technicians to put Stiles together and had since been assigned to the Cyclone to keep him up to date and in proper working order. They gave him the title of ‘Head Engineer’ to cut expenses, and frankly it sounded better than ‘Keeper of the Android’ anyway.

“I…well it was my fault, really.” Stiles supplied lamely, setting his severed limb on the exam table and hopping up beside it. He waved his arm as if to emphasize his point without realizing he didn’t have a hand attached to it. “Isaac. I mean, I know he gets spooked so easily around me. I should have left him alone.”

He hung his head, settling his one hand in his lap. Deaton said nothing, instead he started to move around the lab; first to inspect the damage done to the droid, and then to gather the necessary tools to begin work. Stiles listened to him moving, knowing that the mere presence of the engineer would help ease his worries.

“He’s learning.” Deaton finally says after the long stretch of silence, after he’s pulled up a chair and side table for his tools and set to work on Stiles’ arm. “He cut off your power port, you’re not going to be able to power down and recharge until I can fix this. Run diagnostics.”

“Running diagnostics.” Stiles’ tone took on a more artificial tone to it, more robotic. 

The first time his Android voice, as he called it, had come out of his mouth, he’d flinched to hear it because it was so inhuman. Now it was just another part of him that just served to remind him that no matter how perfect a clone of the original, he was not who he tried to be.

“Battery levels at seventy-three per cent. Visual sensors, fully functional. Auditory sensors, fully functional. Memory capacity at one-hundred thirty-two per cent. Power port damaged. Lubrication levels low, recommend immediate refill.”

Deaton was quiet again as he worked on Stiles, ending the seep of milky lubricants out of his wound and injecting a refill into him before pulling on his glasses to look at the circuitry.

“One-hundred and thirty-two?” he asked as he was soldering a couple of the loose and frayed wires.

“I’m having dreams.” Stiles explained with a half shrug. “I mean, when I’m powered down. They’re…well they’re memories I think. Of my life before. Part of it.”

“Which part?”

“It comes in segments. Sometimes I just remember working in the lab and seeing the pack. Sometimes they come and go. Sometimes Lydia is working with me. Sometimes I’m working on blood samples from the wolves and Derek is sitting there reading or sleeping. Just there, doing his protective Alpha thing.” He looks down at his engineer who hasn’t glanced up once since Stiles spoke, working diligently on repairing Stiles’ arm. “Alan. I saw Jackson. He saved Lydia, didn’t he?”

“Jackson saved Isaac who had gotten to Lydia first. Isaac was pushing her away and one of the Xenomorphs was going for him. Jackson put himself between them.”

“No one told me.”

“No, I don’t expect that they would.” Deaton agreed, sitting back to look at Stiles. “It is hard for them, which is not new information for you, I’m well aware. Sacrifices were made by the pack to save each other. You didn’t ask to be here, none of them asked for it. You all struggle to deal with the sense of family and intruder all at once. You are owned by The Company now. They have always been a greedy and selfish entity; you knew that coming into this. You all did. 

“What they did to you, what they will continue to do to you, it is unfair. But Stiles, you are and always have been the best geneticist in the field, The Company wouldn’t give up such an asset so easily. Now they’ve bettered you, as far as their science is concerned. You will continue to dream and you will continue to remember what once was in another life. You can choose to let that shape who you are; vague memories of a time that once was, and ended too suddenly. Or you could go a different path.”

Stiles stared down at the technician with a lost and curious look, studying him as if being able to read his vitals would give him any indication as to what was his mind. He wasn’t a telepath though, no matter how advanced of an Android he was.

“What other path?”

“You can embrace the past as a guideline, and you can grow into your own being. A different Stiles Stilinski. You can, in your own way, evolve. It might make things easier for you and for the pack instead of trying to shove yourself into a space you don’t fit into.”

“Be my own person, not the person I’m modeled to be.”

“You are the first of your kind with memories independent of a joint network. There are no other S1 models. You’ve always been your own person.”

Stiles sat quietly, running the words Deaton said to him over and over as though it would clear the meaning to him any further. It didn’t.

“Well, Stiles. It seems that it’s going to take a few hours to get this fixed up. I can rig up a temporary power port and you can power down for the time being if you’d like.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed distractedly, “I can do that.”

✕ ✕ ✕

_It's a little dark in the study, but Stiles didn't mind. He was too absorbed in his books to really notice, or bother getting up to turn on a light. There were highlighted passages in biology text books he was skimming over next to dog eared pages of old leather bound books on mythology and magic that Stiles wouldn't let anyone touch for fear of them falling apart._

_Just as he was starting to squint at the text, the room getting just a little too dark for him to see properly, the light flicked on. Confused, Stiles glanced up to find Erica leaning in the doorway with her hand on the light switch._

_"It was gettin' kinda dark in here, don't you think?"_

_"I was going to turn on the light soon." Stiles protested as Erica made her way into the room to sit next to him._

_"I'm sure you were, Hero."_

_Stiles grinned at the nickname and set aside his books to turn his attention to Erica. They had almost been in love once, but between his studies and her training, romance had been set aside. He still loved her, had a fondness for her he didn't really have for anyone else, but he knew they'd never really work out in the long run. This felt better anyway._

_"What're you reading about?"_

_"What am I always reading about?" Stiles laughed in reply, nudging her shoulder with his. "I'm trying to figure out what the moon has to do with anything."_

_"It's just magic, Stiles. Sometimes science can't explain everything."_

_"A man can dream." He sighed, carefully setting aside the ancient books on werewolf lore. They sat in silence for a short time, just enjoying the company the other provided. Stiles was staring out the open window to the sky outside littered with stars._

_"Do you know why the sky is dark at night?" Stiles asked softly after a moment, shifting so he was facing Erica a little more._

_"Is it a lot of science?"_

_"It's the best science." Stiles grinned as he twined his fingers with hers. "You wanna look back in time?"_

_"Damn Stiles, you always know just what a girl wants." Erica teased, leaning in and kissing his cheek. "Show me."_

✕ ✕ ✕

“Stiles. Stiles, wake up.”

Reluctantly Stiles forced his eyes open, groaning at the too bright lights in his eyes as he forced himself into a sitting position. It was a little fumbling and awkward maneuvering himself when he discovered he still only had one functioning arm.

“Why does it feel like you took a jackhammer to my circuits?” He whined, rubbing his hand over his face and trying to blink rapidly enough to bring his eyes back into focus. It seemed his retinal displays were on the fritz, he couldn’t get anything other than vague shapes and light. “I can’t see anything, Alan.”

“I apologize, there was a power surge. Give it a few moments, your sensors should come back online in a moment.”

“What happened?”

“Not sure. If I had to hazard a guess, Mr. Mahealani is helping Miss Martin get the extra power supply she wanted in the labs.”

“Wonderful.”

Stiles generally doesn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but it’s unavoidable at this point. His tone is even accentuated with an eye roll. It pulls an amused chuckle out of the technician and Stiles can’t help but grin at that. It isn’t often that Deaton is anything other than stoic professionalism. 

He watched Deaton moving around his work space, checking on the computers to make sure nothing was lost in the surge. Slowly everything comes back into focus and by the time Deaton is in front of him holding a tablet and going over the information on it he can see perfectly fine again.

“How’s it lookin’, doc?” 

“Good, I should have your arm reattached momentarily.” Is Deaton’s answer, subtly shifting the tablet out of Stiles’ view as he tries to peer at it. Stiles pouts at it, but doesn’t say anything. 

“I was going over the memories you’ve been recovering.”

“Oh?” Stiles raises an eyebrow, a habit he picked up from watching Derek closely. At least when the Alpha let him be around for longer than ten minutes. “And what’s the verdict?”

“I see no harm in the memory recovery as of yet. You have the storage capacity to handle them still, they’re not infringing on the knowledge The Company deems necessary. Unless they’re causing you unneeded stress on your systems, I’m going to allow you to continue to recover them if you wish to.”

“I do.” Stiles agrees softly, bowing his head. The memories, even the pleasant ones, hurt him. He had a basic understanding of the range of human emotions and felt that he emulated them rather well; he’d go so far as to say the most basic ones were definitely felt in his circuits. He was happy when he was praised, or when the pack would tolerate his presence for extended periods. He was sad when he was in trouble, or when he was feeling rejected. He hurt knowing he wasn’t who the pack wanted him to be and in that knowledge would be continued rejection. His memories hurt him and he wanted to keep them as a reminder that he was a new breed of Android, that he could be more human than machine. That he could still feel fondness with the memories. He could be better than what he was designed to be.

“Did you dream while you were powered down?” Deaton asked, shaking Stiles from his thoughts. He’d already set aside the tablet and was now holding up Stile’s arm. Stiles nodded as he held out his severed limb.

“Yes. I dreamed of Erica. I loved her very much. I was teaching her about space, but I think she was just humoring me. She called me hero.”

“She was very independent, am I correct?”

“I think so, yes. I don’t remember very much about her. She died, no one will tell me how. I just know the memories I do have of her are fond and a little bit sad.” 

“Death is a tender subject for everyone, especially for wolves. She was pack, it will be a while before any of them will be able to talk openly about it.” Deaton mused as he fitted Stiles forearm to the joint and reached for his tools to start reattaching it.

“They’ll never talk about it with me. I have resigned myself to that. The memories I do have of her will have to suffice.”

Deaton didn’t reply to that, opting instead to nod as an indication that he was still listening as he worked on connecting up the wires before he could get the joint back together. Stiles fell to silence as well, letting his mind wander between his memories of Erica and the work he still needed to finish for the day that he hadn’t gotten done before his run in with Isaac. 

“There we go, all done.” Deaton announced, moving back and setting down his tools. He gave Stiles’ arm a once over before picking up his tablet and popping out the stylus. “You’ll have that seam there for about a week until the synthetics kick in and cover it up again. Other than that, good as new. I upgraded your power port to include a communications coupling. You can plug into the computers and access the databases you need directly now. I don’t know why we didn’t have that in there for you before.”

“I’m sure that will come in handy.” Stiles agreed, looking down at his arm. He didn’t like the obvious black line running around his forearm just below his elbow but there was nothing he could do about it. He’d probably take to wearing long sleeves to cover it up for the mean time. “Thank you, Alan.”

“You’re welcome Stiles. Just take care of what you say around Isaac. I’ll speak to him myself as well, there should be no reason I need to see you twice because of his temper.”

“It’s usually my fault.” Stiles shrugged, hoping down from the exam table. “I’ll be more careful around him, I promise.”

“Very well. Off you get then. Come see me next week so I can take a look at the joint and run your monthly diagnostics.”

“I will.”

Deaton nods and Stiles takes it as a dismissal. He likes to think he didn’t make a hasty retreat from the technician’s office, but he just barely kept himself from running.

The halls are empty as he makes his way to the turbolift which is curious to him. It was usually bustling through the settlement and Stiles found himself weaving around the people to get to his destinations. He checked his internal clock and realized it was 0200 by Earth time. Everyone much have been asleep, he didn’t think he’d been in Deaton’s office for twelve hours, but the technician must have been doing other work while he was tending to Stiles’ arm. 

He sighed heavily before he could stop himself and changed his course. There was no time to head to his quarters to change his outfit, he missed almost a whole day’s worth of work and he didn’t want to fall behind. Lydia would be cross with him and he had enough dealing with the anger of the pack in Isaac alone.

Making his way down the hall to the lab he and Lydia shared he hoped he would find it empty. He felt a surge of relief when he opened the door to find only a few work station lights on and no one in sight. If Danny and Lydia had been responsible for the power surge, they’d taken off shortly after. 

Thankful for the solitude, Stiles ran a quick scan to find where the pack was. Most were in their quarters, save for Derek and Scott who were in the galley. He rolled his eyes at their late night snacking habits, but was satisfied he wouldn’t be bothered for some time. He had a long night ahead of him.

✕ ✕ ✕

The settlement on EN-178 was better known as North Towers. Stiles found the name rather uncreative, but practical given the fact that the labs for the settlement were on the north side in three towers overlooking the rest of the colony. The planet was mostly used for mining, the core composed of iron ore and more to the west there were diamond deposits. These diamonds, of course, were different from what were on earth, more valuable and had a higher mineral rating. Even further north than the towers was another base, though it had been abandoned and no one bothered going out there anymore.

The official reports were that the structure was unstable, and not a single person questioned it. Who wanted to go through the trouble of donning a jumper and taking a buggy the five miles out to investigate otherwise?

“Stiles.” Lydia’s voice held a tone of surprise, though she tried to conceal it. “You’re here awfully early. I didn’t see you yesterday.”

“Here late, actually.” Stiles corrected, shrugging one shoulder as he continued to move formula’s around his tablet screen with his stylus. “I had to see Deaton yesterday; I was out for twelve hours. I wanted to make sure I didn’t fall behind in our work. I know it’s important to you.”

Lydia tutted at him as she made her way around the work benches to stand next to him and see his progress. “I know you’re an Android now, but your work habits haven’t changed one bit. You need to rest sometime. Don’t overwork yourself Stiles, you’ll stress yourself out.”

Stiles expression softened at her words and he easily handed over the tablet when she moved to take it from him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Caring.”

Lydia stared at him a moment and then huffed at him. “You are ridiculous. I miss him, you know. But I’m still grateful that part of him will live on through you. Unlike those uncivilized wolves, I find it easier to cope.”

“If you’re not careful, they’ll hear you.” Stiles teased, nudging her lightly with his shoulder. It earned him an exasperated look that barely masked a small smile.

“Derek’s bark is worse than his bite.” She retorted finally, handing the tablet back.

“Isaac’s isn’t.” Stiles mumbled before he could stop himself. Lydia gave him a hard look.

“Did you get in a fight with him again?”

“I… Well. It was my fault. I may have provoked him a little.”

“Stiles.”

“He was being rude and arrogant. I know I’m an Android but I deserve at least a little respect, don’t I? I shouldn’t have provoked him, I know that. But he hates me so much and it made me so angry.”

Stiles set aside the tablet and slouched down onto a stool. Lydia shook her head at him and reached for his arm to study the black ring around it. She gave him a stern look when he tried to shy away from it until he stilled.

“He did a real number on you.”

“He ripped out my power port, Deaton had to replace the whole thing.”

“I’ll talk to Derek about it. Isaac’s been getting very short with everyone lately. It’s not fair that he takes it all out on you. Granted you did admit to provoking him, but he does need to stop trying to tear your limbs off. It’s uncouth.”

Stiles shrugged and gently pulled his arm away from Lydia’s grip and she released him without a fuss. She stared at him a moment until he looked away, uncomfortable by her studying. She hummed thoughtfully then turned her attention back to the tablet on the table.

“Your work is fine, Stiles. You should go and do something recreational for a while, take your mind off work and the events of yesterday. I think Scott is in the gym right now, maybe you could join him.”

“Perhaps.” Stiles agreed, glancing around the lab. His brow furrowed and he looked back at Lydia. “Did you and Danny do something to the power last night? Around one thirty?”

“The power? No. I thought about it, but orders are very strict right now, the power is on reserve until the sun rises again. I hate this place, how can it be dark for a month? Don’t answer that.” She added, holding up her hand as Stiles opened his mouth to answer, “It was rhetorical. I know how. Why do you ask anyway?”

“There was a power surge last night. I think I understand how it feels to be hung over now. It hurt down in the deepest of my circuits and knocked my visual sensors off for a few minutes. Deaton had to wake me up to make sure nothing had shorted. He assumed you and Danny were hacking the power supply again.”

“Nope, not us. Probably just your run of the mill power surge, unless one of the engineers was dicking around with something downstairs.” She shrugged and moved away from the bench to grab her lab coat off the rack. “Now you, skedaddle. Go to the gym or go for a walk. Get out of here for a while.”

“Yes ma’am.” Stiles snorted, sliding off the stool and stretching his joints while he headed for the door.

“Don’t call me ma’am!”

“Yes sir!” Stiles shot back with a smirk, ducking out the door before Lydia could retaliate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't bite, come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://awolfmoon.tumblr.com)


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